Her anger sparked and ignited. She spun away from him to keep from indulging in a totally unproductive shouting match.
She stared at that babydoll in the cradle and couldn't stop thinking of it resting in Gray's hands, how natural it looked. She gave herself a moment to bundle her tattered nerves while kneeling to scoop up three stray Cheerios from the rug. "If that's your idea of a proposal, it needs a little polishing, Major."
Gray's gaze followed her as she stood, his eyes resting on those three little Os in her palm. "To see if you're pregnant."
"Oh." A surprise wave of sadness threatened to fold her knees.
She should have understood his meaning straight off, and probably would have if she hadn't been so distracted. Magda's approaching evidentiary hearing added more stress to Lori's already taut nerves. Glitches in the paperwork had her scrambling during what should have been a smooth transition to place Magda in her foster care long-term, adoption pending. "I'm not. Pregnant, I mean. I'm not. I'm sure now."
His eyes closed. A long, slow swallow slid down his throat before he stared at her again.
Lori stifled a twinge of irritation. Of course he was relieved. Why wouldn't he be? But some crazy part of her brain insisted she saw a hit of disappointment on his face.
Gray's eyes opened, and he pinned her with a laser stare. "How long have you known?"
"A few days. I, uh, spotted for a while and wasn't sure." She winced at discussing specifics, but reminded herself he was a doctor. "But now I'm done and I'm sure."
Anger snapped in his eyes, the green glittering like jewels tossed in a fire. "It might have been nice if you would have shared that with me.">And what about a child they may have made? Images of Lori swelling with his baby, giving birth into his waiting hands, stirred a protectiveness so fierce it astounded him. He'd attended deliveries in training and had found the experience—simply awesome. Replacing the mother with an image of Lori was beyond anything he could imagine.
He had placed his foot squarely on a mammoth land mine, blowing to pieces all his plans to keep it simple and leave town.
Gray stood and yanked up the blanket. A scrap of red satin fluttered to the ground. Memories of his and Lori's total lack of control rolled back over him like a tank. Would it always he that way between them?
He jammed the panties into his pocket and sprinted after her. He caught up with her just as she came back out his parents' door with Magda in her arms, the child an excellent chaperone and armor. Lori called her farewell and thanks to Gray's mother and patently avoided him. She wouldn't even look at him.
Instinct told him it would be a long, quiet ride back to her place. Experience from the past year told him that the silence could reach past dropping her off.
The thought of losing her again panicked him almost as much as the idea of marriage.
How far would he go to keep her?
* * *
Could she be pregnant? Lori drummed her fingers against the box of crayons on the kitchen table. She was late enough for it to be a possibility. Although she'd never been regular, and stress had been beyond normal the past two weeks.
No rationale could reason away a totally irrational wish for it to be true. She wanted Gray's baby inside her.
Had she subconsciously risked pregnancy to keep a part of Gray with her? She honestly didn't think so. That didn't stop her from cherishing a tiny dream face just as she cherished the little face across the table from her.
A CD of kiddie tunes chirped in the background, "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" repeating. Magda bobbed her head in time while concentrating on an ABC coloring book. Lori picked up a blue crayon and forced herself to color the picture beside Magda's.
Blue. Like Grayson's apartment. His old apartment. What would his new one in Washington look like?
She flung aside the crayon and selected a pink one.
Pink, for another little girl in her life.
That crayon snapped in her fingers.
Lori carefully chose a green crayon and began filling in the capital T. A towering tree waited beneath the letter, a big oak packed with memories of when she might have made that baby.
She sighed. With her luck, Magda would be coloring "stars" for the S on the other page.
Lori dared a look.
S for soap.
Thank goodness.